


Midnight

by PseudonymVirtue



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Canon, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-04-18 18:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14219382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudonymVirtue/pseuds/PseudonymVirtue
Summary: Oneshot series: During the decade before the return of the dawn, citizens of Eos are stripped of a normal life and forced to confront the uncertainties of the darkness, and the balance between science and prophecy. Darkness has always existed within mankind from the early days of it's creation, and light was only the exception.





	1. Under the Influence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea is a defiant patient.

 

Aranea coughed harshly and her feeble ribs rattled and stung in protest. Her eyes squeezed shut for protection from the particles as her hands frantically scampered the rubble to feel the object on top of her. The dust from the rubble was just too thick.

 

She was pinned between two fallen boulders, likely from the spell one of the glaives had cast- a real rookie mistake on her part. Were they gone? Her ears focused on her surroundings; the absence of the flapping wings of daemonic wasps were gone, as well as the stench from the noxious gases they emitted.

 

 _'That's always a good sign._ ' She thought dryly to herself.

 

“Aranea!” A familiar voice called somewhere behind the wall of rubble to her. She opened her mouth to reply but couldn't muster the breath to respond. Why were her breaths so shallow? The pressure from the rocks weren't helping things.

 

She only groaned as her hands feebly pressed against the boulder against her chest. She was slumped backwards and it was not a favorable angle to push the object that was pressurizing her chest. She heard a truck ignition start before the glaive called her name again, this time faster and louder pitched- the pitch of recognition.

 

“Aranea! I see you, hold on a sec!”

 

She groaned again, noticing her breaths get faster.

 

The glaive in the truck hopped out and together they attempted to pull the rocky prison around her apart.

 

“Shit. I could try breaking them up with a spell.”

 

“You'll kill her, look she's already injured beyond whatever curatives we've got.”

 

_“Fuck.”_

 

At this point Aranea couldn't remember names. The calmer one, a male directed the female to back the truck up towards the boulder and fetch chains from the bed of the truck. She obliged and as he made some tension breaking joke about the unlikely usefulness of a specific training exercise and the female didn't seem too amused. Aranea wasn't. She could appreciate a morbid sense of humor but the tension in her chest was building too much.

 

Together the glaives secured the chains around the boulder and the woman jumped back in the truck, her dark silhouette a blur to Aranea as she attempted to crack her eyes open. The truck crawled forward and Aranea slid limply to the side as the male glaive caught her in his clutch. The pressure of the boulders was off of her, but now her breathing had quickened despite her faint sensation of lack of oxygen, causing the sharp pain from her ribs to increase.

 

Her head rolled backwards, platnuim hair littering the rubble around her, mouth gasping for air in irregular shallow breaths.

 

“Aranea.” The man spoke again, rolling her onto her back and bending an ear just over her mouth.

 

“Elle! She's alright but I need the first aid kit! She's alive but she sounds like she has a pneumothorax!”

 

The woman jumped from the driver's side of the truck, the door had already been open while she had crawled the truck forward to pull the boulder. She came running with a black bag that had been safely stowed in the glove compartment.

 

“You remember from training where to decompress?”

 

“Second and third space.” The man answered as Elle passed him a large bore needle in a long package.

 

“Sorry, ma'am.” He looked over her, clearly not looking sorry. “You can beat my ass later.” He tore at the hem from the collar of her shirt, ripping it open to expose her chest. Fingers expertly counted her ribs from her collarbone. She was croaking now, weakly attempting to grab at him out of desperation and confusion.

 

“Right there.” She heard Elle confirm.

 

Then, he tore open the package with his teeth, uncapped the needle with one hand while maintaining an firm pressure in between her upper ribs with two fingers on the other, as if marking his spot.

 

Then he drove the needle into her chest with a pop and splutter of blood from her chest, followed by a sickening hiss of air. The sensation pulled her back into a more pragmatic consciousness as instant relief settled in her chest.

 

“Tape.” Elle said, nudging her fellow glaive to prompt him to secure the needle. He did so and the hissing from her chest slowed, but continued.

 

“Hold on a little longer, Aranea. Let us move you, we're right outside of Lestallum and we'll take to straight to the doctors alright? I think your lung collapsed. Just a little longer.”

 

Aranea nodded, dizzy and still delirious from the impact. The warmth of a healing spell washed over her, causing little more than a tingle in her extremities and a temporary relief from the pain in her ribs.

 

The two hauled her in the bed of the truck, the woman retrieved the chains and slowly pulled away from the site. Aranea's head rolled to the side limply, eyes settling on the welcome sight of her lance, strewn carelessly in the bed of the truck beside her. She closed her eyes tightly.

 

 _'I'm going to survive this.'_ She thought to herself, willing it to reality in a self reliant prayer. _'I'm not going to die from a fight with a bunch of killer wasps.'_

 

If she had it in her she would've laughed at it all.

 

“Let me know if you need me to slow down!” Elle called out the driver side window as she peeled back onto the pavement of the main road.

 

Aranea's breathing was slow now, perhaps too slow. The effects of the curative spell were wearing off and as the truck hit the occasional rough spot in the road.

 

“You can step on it!” She came to as the man called over her to the driver in the cab. He rummaging through the bag beside her. “The catheter is starting to clot off...”

 

She drifted again.

 

* * *

 

The memories that followed were a series of scenes that befuddled her: losing her first tooth when she fell off her bicycle at five years old. Her mouth was full of dirt. Then she was older, heavier, she was limp and her body was being turned this way and that. A knife sliced her sides. Tape was torn from her skin and reapplied. Her father gripping her by the chin tightly when she mouthed off to hard. Something warm trickled from her sides.

 

Blood?

 

_No, more tape._

 

“Aranea.”

 

Her eyes fluttered open. Ignis sat beside her, gently applying pressure to her shoulder as she attempted to sit upright in the bed out of instinct.

 

“There you are. Good to see you again, you're lucky you were so close to Lestallum.”

 

“What the fuck is this-” She gasped, wincing at the monitor to the side of the bed. Her clothes were gone and replaced by a sterile looking blue hospital gown. And all these cords...

 

“How long?” She croaked, eyeing the blonde man fiercely, “How long have I been out?”

 

“You arrived the same day I rolled in from Galdin Quay, except you were brought in the morning. So... three days.”

 

Aranea cursed under her breath and winced as she adjusted herself back in the bed as an excruciating pain coursed through her. She pulled the thin hospital blanket back before Ignis could stop her.

 

The source of the pain was from her side, and all she could see was a translucent white tube emerging from under her gown on the side which Ignis sat.

 

“Aranea, if you're in pain I can let the staff know-”

 

She swatted his hand away and unabashedly pulled the side of her gown up her thigh and side to reveal where the tube was covered by a bandage on her side.

 

“It's a chest tube. To help your lung heal. There was an incident, I'm not sure you remember.” He spoke calmly, gently pulling her hands away from the bandage before she would be tempted to pull it back and look. Such would be her manner.

 

“I remember.” She spoke through clenched teeth, not out of spite but out of the bitter pain that was washing over her now.

 

“Let me see if you can get something. They just weaned your sedation off-” Ignis stood and stopped as she shot a hand up to catch his forearm.

 

“No.”

 

“Are you sure?” His proper tone carried a hint of skepticism.

 

“Yes,” She replied, voice still cracking, “But you can turn off that monitor. The shit's been running for three days. If I'm not dead yet that thing isn't going to make a difference now.”

 

“How about this,” Ignis rationalized, “I'll let the nurses know you're awake, and perhaps if you get pain medication your vitals will be stable enough to where they can turn all everything in here if you want.”

 

Had she been well, she would've thought up some quip to fire back at him, but he was already gone. All of the electricity powering the room irritated her; people were outside the walls of the city putting too much on the line to justify such waste for her own benefit.

 

That was when it hit her. She hadn't seen Ignis in several months. If she was feeling more herself she probably would've greeted him a little more appropriately and caught up like a normal human being, but instead she'd cursed in his face and damn near flashed him with her nakedness under the gown when she was inspecting the tube.

 

What he was doing back in Lestallum, she didn't know. And she was unsettled by him just happening to be present when she awoke.

 

The whole situation of being in a hospital bed was unsettling to her, but since she began hunting daemons several months ago, she'd developed a special kind of respect for the staff in Lestallum's hospital. They operated at a mere fraction of the power and supplies they were used to, and it didn't matter what kind of wounded were hauled back; they responded and make it work.

 

She made it a point to address those things when he returned, now that she was becoming more lucid. Though that opportunity never came as when he reentered he was quick about it, flipping over the power switches to the monitor and about the room, though it was pretty dim and sparing with the power to begin with.

 

“Alright then. The nurse is on the way with some medication. Maybe it'll help you sleep if anything. I'll get out of your hair.”

 

Aranea only grunted in response as she repositioned herself before adding, “Were those glaives okay?”

 

“Yes they were, I believe so. You were awfully lucky for their combat aid training, I doubt any other woman could've survived such a predicament. I'll be in the area for a while longer yet. I suppose I'll see you back out there in several weeks? Give or take?”

 

Apparently that question was rhetorical, because with that, he was gone. She stiffened when the nurse came in the room with the pain meds, and begrudgingly accepted them. Not because of her agreement with Ignis, but because they'd likely help her sleep and sleep was going to be the only thing that ensured she would get through the whole experience with a tube sewn into her body.

 

In the days that followed the chest tube was removed and she was moved to a room in a hotel to recuperate before getting the clearance to restart missions. She moved about the city, increasing her distance by day under the grey lights of dusk that had replaced the once bright sun overhead.

 

After hearing of the incident her former mercenaries trickled in the city gates, tracking her down and confirming the stories.

 

“Didn't think I was ever so popular with you guys.” She remarked dryly to one, and he laughed in response.

 

The day she set out for her first hunt since the incident, she spotted Ignis as she emerged from the tent, chains wrapped in a loop around her elbow and hand. She decided she would be sure to never leave the gate without a good amount of chains in the bed of the truck.

 

“Well look who it is,” She remarked teasingly, “The last time I saw you, you were ducking outside of my hospital room.”

 

Ignis smiled, running a hand through his uncharacteristically unkempt hair. Several grease marks littered his features and his sleeves were rolled up, indictating he was prepping for some kind of mission himself.

 

“You're not a very pleasant patient.”

 

Aranea shrugged, “Noted.” Her chin jerked in his direction indicating she was taking notice of his appearance. “About to hit the road soon, are you?”

 

“Yes, and you are too I take it?”

 

“Yeah. See you out there sometime.” And with that, she walked off.

 

The reason why was unbeknownst to her, but she suddenly remembered that day when she woke with him beside her hospital bed while she was in a post-anesthetic stupor and had pulled her gown up her naked body in front of him while he firmly tried to stop her. If she wasn't in such a rush she might've been embarrassed. But Aranea was rarely embarrassed. However, she couldn't deny the warmth that rushed to her cheeks, which she shook off as she loaded the truck.

 

 


	2. In Hindsight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravus seeks redemption in a familiar place.

 

 

_“You claim everything you do is for our family, yet you pledge allegiance to the very ones who murdered our mother.”_

 

Luna had stood on the winding stairwell, dressed in a pale blue evening gown, visibly blinking back tears of fury.

 

_“You've become just as terrible as they are, Ravus. You parade me around like a trophy, all of you.”_

 

Ravus flinched, walking cautiously up to the stair where she glared down at him, her words biting with anger and unspoken grief.

 

 _“And when you're done with me you stow be away like cattle in a barn, where I'm instructed how and when I am to fulfill my calling! I'm not a child!”_ Her voice was louder now.

 

Ravus stopped several steps below her still, though due to their difference in height they were eye to eye. “You are a child, Lunafreya. You're only sixteen!”

 

She opened her mouth to protest and he grabbed her arm roughly, to which she resisted defiantly, _“I haven't been a child since the day they took you and mother from me- don't touch me! ”_

 

Ravus pushed her against the wall of the staircase and pressed a hand firmly over her mouth. There was no doubt her words were carrying to the Imperial ears around them. “Hush. They'll hear you.” He spat through gritted teeth. Her light blue eyes angerly bore into his clear grey ones.

 

“He's a silly boy, Lunafreya. He's just a boy, younger than you, and his father is a coward. How can I make you understand? You're fraternizing with the enemy.” He spoke in a half whisper, not blinking, only pressing her more firmly against the wall as she struggled, undoubtedly yearning to make a sharp retort.

 

It was the evening of a ball commemorating Tenebrae's 'union' with the empire and Lunafreya had been stiff throughout the day, offering only empty greetings and pleasantries in contrast to her usual warm demeanor.

 

He knew she was on edge from the start, but when he caught her in her chambers with that scruffy dog bent over and beaming at a notebook he knew she was up to something. And when he snatched it from her clutch, he read all that he needed to know in scratchy, pathetic penmanship. It didn't take much deduction to determine who the author was.

 

So he confiscated the notebook from her. He'd never bring himself to read it, partly out of consideration of her private feelings and partly out of fear of what affections for this boy the journal would reveal. He simply wanted it away from the prying eyes of Nifilheim. She was furious, shouting at him as he left the room and slamming the door, only to emerge some time later, presentable and noble in appearance for the ball. But throughout the night she only cast scathing looks his way.

 

“If they catch you communicating with the crown prince of Lucis, things won't end well for you.” Ravus continued, forehead only a mere inches from hers so that she was the only one who could hear. “You can hate me and accuse me of whatever you want. But you cannot tell me that I'm not acting in your best interest.” He spoke in a hard, pressured whisper.

 

He released her from his grip gently. Lunafreya only blinked several more times, still seething with rage. She slapped him hard, causing a rush of blood to his jaw. He only stared back at her, in shock of the amount of anger that she displayed. He'd never quite seen her like this.

 

Then, she turned and ascended the staircase to her room, leaving him to rub his cheek to soothe the sting.

 

And now, years later, he remembered that night as he ascended the staircase again. Much had happened. He failed to protect his sister, despite years of trying to do just that. If anything, he hindered her efforts. He stifled her. He was a direct contributor to her own personal hell.

 

The marble stairs were coated in dust. The stained glass windows of the manor once gleamed in brilliant shapes and colors, and now they were dull. The only faint beams of light came from an overcast sky outside through broken pieces of the glass. The sunlight was gone, and the remaining daylight was fading more by the day.

 

Ravus ascended the staircase to his old quarters down the hall from where he held Lunafreya captive. His boots clicked against the floor, echoing throughout the empty and stagnant home. He stopped in the doorway where the double doors hung ajar, likely from when the Empire had broken in the ransack the place, leaving the room in a less than desirable state. Drawers were left open or completely removed. Books had been tossed from bookcases and littered the room. His mattress had been turned upside down and cut open in a feeble attempt to find whatever they could on him.

 

He knelt down beside a pile of books from his youth. They had all been stacked neatly on the same shelf, and therefore were all strewn on the floor together in a great pile. He sifted through the pile with his nonmechanic hand, eyes scanning for a familiar blue cover.

 

His eyes widened in recognition as he spotted it beside a broken ceramic lamp on the floor. He grabbed the notebook, momentarily debating if he dared to look inside. He decided for a second time he wouldn't, as those pages had never been meant for him to see.

 

Some time later, Ravus walked back to Lunafreya's chambers. He opened the ornate blue and gold painted doors to find her things mostly untouched. The fullness of night was settling in, neglecting the beauty of Luna's windows. He sat for a moment, listening to the stillness of the room.

 

 _'I never meant to cause you pain.'_ He thought, willing her to somehow know every word. _'I'm sorry.'_

 

He wondered how far his confiscation of the notebook truly affected things in the long run, for Lunafreya had plenty of loyal attendants surrounding her would've fetched her a new one, enabling her to resume her correspondance with Noctis. Still, he knew it was wrong.

 

It all made sense to him now. While he vilified the Lucian prince for his seemingly normal and comfortable upbringing, Lunafreya had found an escape in him. He had no doubt that she loved him, and was noticeably happier the the betrothal arrangements had been made.

 

He looked upon the various foreign guests arriving with wedding bouquet samples and custom made dresses with scorn. He thought she was silly, holed up in her chambers with Gentiana and numerous giggling attendants, trying on dress after dress, sitting with jewelers in the parlor and sifting through cases of earrings and necklaces, listening to their pitches on every single precious stone. And in the meantime, he harbored and unwavering hostility for her fiance and everything that he represented.

 

The culmination came when he cried beside her lifeless body, laid to rest by Noctis's unconscious side. _'You would've made a beautiful bride.'_ He'd told her, and it was true. Lunafreya was kind, and she was strong. She was considerate and dedicated. She made people feel comfortable and valuable. And if he could change the past, it would be to ensure her reunion with Noctis and her wedding day were everything she wanted it to be.

 

He rose, taking the Sword of the Father and the notebook in his clutches, both objects he had intended to return to their rightful owner upon his return. The rightful owner was this writer of the disjointed scratchy wring he'd read years ago when he wrenched the journal from his sister's hands. He couldn't change his actions in the past, but he vowed to greet the king of Lucis when he returned, to fight alongside him and offer counsel and support as his sister would have.

 

He stopped on the stair where she stood all those years before and stood in silence for a moment. A daemonic horde was passing somewhere side, their irreverent feet tearing through the foliage outside the window.

 

He tucked the notebook in his jacket and gripped the sword. He'd come here alone, and successfully retrieved what he came for.

 

_Luna,_

_My birthday is coming up next month, so I'm told that it is going to be held in the citadel again this year, which means there's just going to be a ton of adults. They are nice, but I don't think they're really all that interested in my birthday. The only other person around my age that I like is Ignis. I know you probably can't make it this year, but I hope you can come someday. How are you?_

_Noctis_

 

 

A/N: Thank you for reading! Ravus has easily become probably the most tragic of FF characters for me. Another reason I liked the alternate ending was for what it did for his character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Ravus has easily become probably the most tragic of FF characters for me.


	3. Firsts and Lasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first kiss would've been their last; Iris was determined to go on her first hunt.

The first time she saw the Prince, she was hardly old enough to remember.

 

She had been in bed sick for the better part of the week, so much that her mother contracted the Citadel's doctor to visit at one point. She was then quarantined in her bedroom until her fever broke and the hot red rash that covered her body subsided. Her mother checked in with her frequently, to force her to drink water and tea or to take her into the bathroom to bathe her and systematically inspect her skin.

 

When her mother left the room with a 'Get some sleep, Iris. You need rest,' she'd wiggle out of her bed by her chubby legs and climb the bench before her window instead. Her room had the perfect view of the courtyard, which where she watched her father and Gladio train every evening.

 

It frightened her at first.

 

From a toddler's perspective, the image of her father displaying an intent of violence towards her big brother was confusing. But when she was well, the two men were rough with her as well, mockingly chasing her until she couldn't run anymore and picking her up by her ankles and swinging her around until her gleeful shrieks summoned her mother to scold them. And if the activity didn't end that way, it typically ended with her being tossed against the sofaas her little body bounced against the cushions. Laughter would bubble from her as the pillows would become disheveled in the act, burying her alive.

 

She had never been trained to fight but she knew better than to fear the men who loved her so much.

 

One day, Gladio walked out into the yard with another kid. He was small, though not as small as she was. He was dressed in all black the way most of her own family did, and with her nose pressed against the glass all she could see most of the time was a head of messy black hair.

 

Her breath misted the glass. Even though she didn't have the greatest view she could sense Gladdy's frustration. The boy was visibly reluctant.

 

_'Fight him._ ' She found herself thinking.

 

Her mother's footsteps echoed from down the hall and Iris instinctively reacted by launching herself off the bench and into the bed where she was supposed to be.

 

* * *

 

In the years that followed she learned that the boy was Prince Noctis, and she became fascinated by him.

 

She encountered him for the first time in a wooded area outside the boundaries of the Citadel's gardens. He stood before her as soaked as she was, the same boy that the fuzzy memory of her toddlerhood afforded her.

 

'I come out here to play sometimes.' He told her kindly, his blue eyes contrasting with the black of his clothing and the dismal sky that glared down at them through the trees.

 

Her fascination quickly turned to infatuation.

 

As a child she was rather gregarious by nature, but around Noctis she was less so. They were fast friends, causing Gladio to not seem so frustrated by him anymore. One of her favorite nights came soon after their initial meeting deep in the gardens of the Citadel, when he carried jars and they caught fireflies in the humid darkness of a midsummer night.

 

For her twelfth birthday, her father arranged for her to have a slumber party in the guest hall of the Citadel, just a floor below the level where Noctis's room was. She was only limited by the condition that she invite no more than six girls from her class, and that they remain in the confines of the hall and it's guest bedrooms.

 

Naturally one of her classmates bid her a particularly ambitious dare; she was to sneak onto the elevator and get to the upper level, encounter the Prince, and kiss him. The dare was as edgy and nerve inducing as it was meant to be, causing the girls to push the birthday girl to agreement and come up with a plan- a plan that was as solid as a twelve year old girl could make it.

 

Iris nervously boarded the elevator with one other girl from her party named Hazel. Hazel was particularly pushy and was to serve as both motivation and a witness for Iris to do the deed. She felt her cheeks burn red as they boarded the elevator and Hazel pushed the black button for the floor above.

 

Her stomach turned. Noctis was older. He was mature, he drove cars around the city at night, he was looking at apartments, he was a high schooler, he was a Prince.

 

She inhaled deeply, followed by a slow quiet exhale that she didn't want Hazel to pick up on.

 

“Don't be scared!” Hazel chided, green eyes scanning the Amicitia daughter with glee. “You're friends, right?”

 

“Y-yeah we're friends.” Iris stammered, making an effort to sound reassured. “He'll probably think it's funny.”

 

That was a lie. She knew Noctis would be just as embarrassed as she was.

 

The elevator signaled as it arrived to the floor and the two girls got off cautiously, bare feet padding on polished granite.

 

It was after midnight. The hall was dark.

 

“I thought you said there'd be security.” Hazel whispered loudly, jabbing Iris in the side with her elbow as they walked.

 

“Shhh.” Iris whispered back, motioning to the walls. “Cameras. We need to be quick.”

 

They padded their way to the great oak double doors to the Prince's quarters. Iris's heart was pulsing so hard in her chest she was sure Hazel could hear it. When the dare had been proposed to her she was so caught up in the glee of the fits of giggles and gossip that had been taking place all evening and into the night. She didn't want to do it but she always wanted to let people know that she was strong. She wasn't afraid of anything.

 

Apparently she had talked about her crush a little too much for people to ignore it.

 

'He'll answer the door. I'll kiss him. Maybe it'll be so quick that he won't know what happened.'

 

She knocked loudly three times.

 

_'I'll explain it to him next time I see him._ ' She reassured herself. _'He'll understand.'_

 

“You kids lost? You with the party downstairs?” A man called from down the hall, approaching them in the dark. He clearly wasn't close enough to recognize Iris yet, but she felt panic set in. If her father found out she took advantage of his kindness to sneak around the Citadel she'd have explaining to do.

 

She didn't want to explain this situation to anyone at this point, let alone Clarus Amicitia.

 

She knocked rapidly three more times, glancing nervously over her shoulder at the advancing guard.

 

Hazel was clearly as frightened of getting caught as she, and bolted down the hall to the elevator from where they came.

 

“Hazel!” Iris cried, feeling the pang of betrayal. She took off after her friend, leaving the guard standing bewildered at the sight of two tween girls in pajamas running barefoot in front of the Prince's room at night.

 

Hazel mashed the button the call the elevator desperately, as Iris caught up to her quickly just in time for the doors to part. They both rushed for the opening as Noctis emerged on the other side, charging him simultaneously for which he was not ready- he had been focused on his phone, his hoodie pulled up and partially obscuring his view to his front.

 

He dropped the phone out of shock and stared, light blue eyes drawn wide at the two girls.

 

“Iris?” He squinted down at her, dark brows furrowed. “What...” His eyes scanned from her to Hazel, bewildered.

 

The doors began to shut. Iris quickly slapped the 'door open' button and grabbed his phone off the floor, offering it to him with a look of defeat.

 

“I'm having a sleepover tonight. We got lost.” Her speech was pressured and fast. She looked down at the ground, unable to look at him or at Hazel.

 

“Oh. Okay. Do you need help getting-”

 

“-No we got it.” Iris cut him off, holding an arm out so that the doors wouldn't close.

 

Noctis passed them both slowly, as if unsure of how to proceed.

 

Hazel said nothing during the encounter, despite of her enthusiasm earlier. She seemed more entranced by the sight of the Prince of Lucis before her, dressed in a black hoodie and jeans as he fumbled with his phone on his way back to his bedroom.

 

Neither of them brought it up again.

 

* * *

 

She thought of the memory fondly, several years later when she found him in Lestallum after Insomnia's fall. He was completely engaged at that point, sure. But a part of her found pleasure in the thought that she could have kissed him that night.

 

She remembered Noctis with such a reverent fervor that she knew he couldn't see. And she hadn't forgotten the young boy who came to her house all those years ago, reluctant and stubborn against the demands of the world around him- she was grateful that he had remained stubborn for as long as he did, because that was what gave her so much time with him, even if it never amounted to what her teenage imagination wanted it to be.

 

* * *

 

Only a glaive sat in the truck when she walked out. He seemed a little surprised to see her, but said nothing as she tossed her pack in the bed and climbed in the cab through the rear passenger door. He already had it running, so the two of the sat silently, sitting in the hum of the engine until Gladio came out behind the barricades surrounding the city.

 

He frowned when he saw her and knocked on her window boldly as he approached the vehicle. She rolled it down, giving him the most defiant look that she could muster. He had his own bag slung over his shoulder.

 

“I told you you're not coming.” He said firmly, eyes boring into her.

 

That stare could intimidate most people. But it didn't intimidate her. She'd seen her father with that same stare when he saw the same commercial too many times on TV.

 

“Like hell I'm not. Sania trusts me more than you.” She said defiantly.

 

“It's dangerous out there, Iris. Even seasoned hunters are getting killed.” He spoke calmly, his gaze not wavering.

 

“I know that.” Iris replied. “I've known it since I escaped Insomnia as it was invaded. Remember?”

 

“This is different. There's daemons everywhere.”

 

Iris blinked back tears. She had spent a lot of time with Sania since the renowned biologist arrived in Lestallum. The woman was determined to study the starscourge in search of a cure. She spoke of prolonging daylight and recovering mild infections until Noctis returned.

 

If Sania's hypotheses were accurate, then maybe, maybe he wouldn't have to give so much when he returned. Maybe it would make his job a little easier. Or maybe life would be a little better for everyone in general.

 

Sania wanted to collect specimens outside a tomb, as she recalled a disturbance in the multispecies transformations that had been taking place up to the onset of the widespread infestation of the starscourge. They were to rendezvous with her on her way back from a trip all the way to Cape Caem with her own security detail of glaives.

 

“That's right. So I won't be doing much good if I stay in the clothing store in town will I.”

 

Gladio threw his head back in frustration, running a rough hand over his face.

 

“I need you to stay safe.” Gladio said grimly, resting his hand on the hood of the truck so that he could lean closer to her. “It's completely different out there compared to the last time you were outside these walls.”

 

“I know.” Iris smiled a little at him. “But I thought I was traveling with the Shield- you know, the one who's supposed to protect the King of Light?”

 

Gladio chuckled, exasperated. He slapped the side of the truck twice, shaking his head. Two loud thuds echoed into the cab. “When did you get so stubborn?”

 

Iris smiled sadly. “Your friend- _our_ friend needs our help.”

 

Hours later, she watched the shadows of her homeland pass by in the passenger window as her brother sat beside her.

 

Life could be full of missed opportunities if one let it. A friendship, a lesson. A first kiss with a crush, a final hug and kiss to her parents the last time she saw them when she got up from the dinner table.

 

She wasn't going to miss those things anymore. She lay her head on the side of Gladio's arm and closed her eyes as they rode.

 


	4. The Cause of the Scourge Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea encounters a visitor twice in the same day.

The pub in the city of light was always the last place that went dark, and it's activity lasted well into the wee hours of the morning.

 

Aranea rolled over on the bed, cursing the genius who thought it would be a good idea to place her quarters directly about the bar. A sea of voices bubbled up through the crack in the floorboards.

 

Her eyes snapped open in the dim light.

 

A knock rapped at the door. She sighed, and debated whether or not she could get away with pretending not to hear.

 

The visitor knocked again.

 

Aranea swung her legs over the side of the bed, sliding them directly into the boots she had stationed there.

 

“Hold on.” She called, hastily fumbling in the dim light for some for of cover.

 

She'd pulled most of her clothing off with her armor after returning from the last hunt, leaving herself only in a thin camisole and leggings. She found a long black cardigan she somehow acquired during her stay in the hospital and pulled it on, careful enough to wrap it over her chest.

 

If she'd learned anything about being a soldier it was that as much as men enjoyed sexuality, they also liked to pick their female leaders apart for showing any hint of it, regardless of it being unintentional.

 

She pulled open the door, one arm over her chest.

 

“Aranea.”

 

Her eyes narrowed. She'd been seeing way too much of the King's advisor lately- he mysteriously showed up during her last hunt-

 

“Is this a good time?”

 

“What can I say, Ignis.” Aranea stood to the side, motioning for him to enter, “Timing _is_ your thing lately, isn't it.”

 

“You're speaking of my interference with your hunt the other day.”

 

“Yesterday.”

 

“Yesterday. That's right.” The man shuffled uncomfortably as she closed the door behind him. He pushed his glasses up the frame of his nose.

 

Aranea motioned for him to sit. The room didn't allow for much furniture, so their options were limited. The double bed was pushed to the boarded up window, with a sofa at it's foot and a dusty older armoire across from them. Ignis chose the sofa, leaning down to a knapsack that he laid at his feet and pulled a brown leather bag out from inside of it.

 

“I wanted to show you why I interrupted your hunt of the mutant Ceourls.”

 

Aranea wasn't sure if he was trying to be condescending, or perhaps if she was feeling too touchy from her lack of sleep as of late.

 

“They were responsible for some of the deaths of our best hunters. One of them is currently well healed by now and back on the loose thanks to you.”

 

“No doubt it is.”

 

Aranea sat beside him, arms wrapped tightly around herself with her cardigan in tow.

 

“I'm not sure what you're getting at.”

 

“I came to show you. You hurried off before I could explain.”

 

Aranea opened her mouth for a short retort but her mouth stayed agape as he pulled the contents from the brown leather bag out, revealing several glass vials of a black substance. It looked to be nothing more than tar shavings or small insects even, but the room appeared consideration dimmer when he revealed them to her. Goosebumps crept up her arms and shoulders.

 

“What that _fuck_ is that.” She gasped, grabbing a vial as it was offered to her.

 

“If Dr. Yeagre is correct, then it is colony of the microorganism responsible for the Starscourge.”

 

Aranea turned the vial over in her hands slowly, lettings the specks of black settle from one end of the tube to the other.

 

“She calls it Plasmodium malariae. She suspects it's a parasite of sorts capable of infecting both humans and animals. Several other remaining biologists have backed her up.”

 

“I gotta admit,” Aranea passed the tube back to him. “Looking at that is a hell of a lot creepier than any daemon I've ever seen.”

 

“Do you recognize it?”

 

Aranea shrugged. “From Nifilheim you mean? No, I may've fought a lot of their battles but I stayed the fuck away from the laboratories. I knew they were experimenting with daemons. I assumed they were... breeding them rather than toying with parasites, if that's all that is.”

 

“I see.” Ignis adjusted his glasses again and carefully assembled the vials back into the leather bag.

 

“That doesn't justify you ending my hunt.” Aranea spoke sharply. He couldn't have expected to wander to her room without her holding him accountable. “I wasn't that far in your way.”

 

“You were interfering with Dr. Yeagre's samples. We've had the most success collecting them just outside of tombs.”

 

“Interfering? Was I?” Aranea's eyes narrowed at him. “Or were you worried about me?”

 

Ignis looked at her incredulously. At last, the master analyst was out of words for the moment.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“Cut the bullshit, Ignis. Am I to believe you were so worried that my feelings were hurt after the hunt that you came here to talk to me privately about it? I know you've been keeping tabs on me since my... injury.”

 

Ignis' brow furrowed. “You were awfully noncompliant as a patient. I doubt you're healing properly.”

 

“I'm fine.”

 

They fell silent, both looking at the floor for a moment.

 

Ignis shook his head, exasperated at her defiance. He buckled up the bag and leaned to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I can only see how exhausted you are,” He said softly, green eyes looking into hers boldly. “Perhaps you should get more rest. And you should try a couple hunts with myself, or someone else if you'd prefer. No one can go at it alone every day. You've got quite a few glaives and hunters that would gladly fight at your side.”

 

Aranea sat still, letting him rise and carrying his bag off with his. He opened the door and let himself out.

 

Aranea leaned back against the sofa, arms relaxing and allowing her cardigan to open. She knew she was hardheaded, but she wasn't dumb. Ignis was offering her information as a means of demonstrating faith in her.

 

'I don't need them at my side.'

 

* * *

 

The Ceourl was stationary in the grass, battered by the blows of her lance and by the effects of the scourge. Aranea stalked it slowly from behind, her legs burning from the vast recruitment of muscles and fatigue. She just dealt a fatal blow to it's mate and it wasn't going to go down without a fair share of fury.

 

The beast spun around and lunged at her before she could move, pinning her to the ground, teeth laughing for her jugular.

 

A wall of fire appeared causing the beast to cry out in pain and retreat into the foliage, leaving her to grunt at her fresh wounds and fumble for an elixir.

 

Then she saw the bespecled man cross the field toward her, amidst her stupor and adrenaline.

 

There wasn't much communication between them, but she knew he wasn't there to interfere. She held a grudge against him anyway. If it weren't for him she wouldn't have blacked out from the burns. The Ceourl wouldn't have escaped.

 

* * *

 

The sky was fully dark when she trudged across the city to the room in the hotel where she knew he always stayed, sometimes with one of his close friends in tow.

 

She knocked on his door.

 

He answered.

 

He was alone.

 

It didn't make much sense, and even in her most creative moments she couldn't think up an excuse to bother him so late.

 

She was alone, but in that moment she didn't want to be anymore. She hoped he would understand.

 

“Aranea?” He questioned, greeting her as properly as he could given the circumstances. His breath smelled of liquor, and his collared shirt was wrinkled.

 

She leaned into him, gripping his collar tightly and pulling him to her.

 

It was an awkward moment before he obliged, pulling her inside and closing the door behind them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> This will likely be a collection of one shots centering around the ten years before Noctis returns, probably heavier in Ignis/Aranea content. I've been wanting to do this since Episode Ignis! 
> 
> After much thought, I've decided to go with the alternate ending for this universe, just because it made things more natural to write for me, and also I just like the idea of Noctis warping into the crystal on his own free will. However I may make a separate fic with a chapter consistent with the original storyline. And I also want to include characters and allude to events that take place in my recently finished fic, 'The Tide', but who knows I'm pretty open for anything at this point!


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